


Thaw (Strange Gifts)

by 1shinymess (magpie4shinies)



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/pseuds/1shinymess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert of Sherwood is the Hooded Man, but his pain is slowly breaking him. Then he has an encounter with a confused worker of magic. Robert, meet Robin. The river is never the same, but it's still there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thaw (Strange Gifts)

**Author's Note:**

> [   
>  ](http://caitriona-3.livejournal.com/202851.html#cutid1)
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Lovely art by Caitriona_3!

The cold was in his bones now, it seemed. He could barely feel the shifting seasons any deeper than his skin as he attended his duties as Herne's son.

"A deep cold," Nasir murmured across the fire. 

Robert glanced up at the same time as Tuck. His friends were both wrapped tightly in furs against the chill. He could see where Nasir had even relaxed some of his rigid readiness to seal the blankets about his neck and chest, which would cost precious seconds to undo in a confrontation. 

They all knew how unlikely it was for the sheriff to send men into Sherwood this late in winter. 

"Aye, it is, my friend. I'm glad Marion isn't out in this," Tuck muttered, eyes turning almost apologetically to Robert. 

Robert looked back to the fire, trying not to see the ways it mirrored Marion's hair and failing. His chest ached with a chill he couldn't warm.

After an interminable time, something like pressure, maybe the instinct of the hunted, drew his eyes back up. Nasir watched him, dark eyes somehow both soft and unrelenting. The chill in him tried to shore up against the warmth offered in that gaze as it had so easily done against the simple heat of the fire and blankets, but Nasir was not one to flinch. Eventually, under that unrelenting gaze, even the coldness abated, temporarily defeated.

Robert made no evidence of the shift that he could tell, but Nasir had been with him as long as any of the men, and spent much of his time watching, watching, watching, and he smiled faintly in response to some cue Robert didn't know he had given.

Robert offered a faint response and wondered what had given him away. Thus far, only Nasir had noticed his distraction as far as he could tell (and perhaps Tuck, but who knew what he was thinking when he chose not to share it). But then, Nasir had been an outsider longer even than Robert. His understanding of loneliness ran deeper than that of the others. He must miss Marion's acceptance as much as or more than Robert. 

Nasir cocked his head, letting the blankets fall open to hover over one of his blades. Robert and Tuck both leaned forward, each with an eye on Nasir as they strained their ears for whatever had pricked his well-honed battle-sense.

The forest reluctantly yielded the sound of thrashing footsteps, made strange and muffled by the layer of frosty leaves decaying along the floor and the remnants left over from the prior night's snow. 

Robert decided to move camp to the southern caves as soon as possible. This muted warning was dangerous. Summer was easy with the sound of the animals going silent to tell them when there were men afoot. He mentally cataloged the work they'd need to do to ready them for habitation while he strained to hear the approaching steps. They paused a long moment, and then Robert heard the gentle hooting of the local owls in one of the patterns they'd devised. He cupped a hand to his mouth as he replied, sending his own call further.

"Carriage!" Much called as he came into view through the trees a moment later. "The briar road! Two guards riding 'fore and behind..."

Robert rose, shrugging off his own furs and unwrapping his bow in one smooth motion, watching Nasir and Tuck rise from the corner of his eye. "Good eye, Much," he said when Much tumbled over the border of their camp, slipping on the decomposing foliage. "Will and John are waiting?"

Much nodded, hands braced on his knees as he panted for breath. "By the blackberry patch."

The patch was a brisk run on good days, and the ground is uncertain with the season. "Tuck?" 

Tuck glanced at Much and nodded. Robert smiled. "Much, rest here with Tuck. You won't be able to make the run back at this rate, and we'll need a few of us rested if luck isn't with us."

Much frowned, but his face was still flushed a dark red from the blood after his hard run and Robert noted his hand twitching up, like he wanted to rub out a stitch in his side. Nasir touched Much's shoulder in passing, softening the wrinkles on his forehead and Robin found his smile lingering as he followed his friend away from their fire and furs. 

~

"He's getting away," Scarlet said, leaving off pummeling one of the soldiers in favor of glaring after the fleeing noble. "Robin--"

Robert released the arrow. For a moment, it seemed as though the girl de Trimetre was dragging would be forced into its path, but she sagged in fear suddenly and the arrow finished its path to the villain's heart. He jerked forward at the impact and let out a stuttered, gurgling sound as he dropped, still gripping the girl and bringing her down in his attempt to keep his feet. 

Robert lowered the bow and looked toward his companions. "Are the soldiers secure?" 

There was a pause, and then Scarlet snorted and laughed approvingly. "S'about time," he muttered. "All that 'I don't like killing nonsense' had to end eventually..."

Robert thought he should say something. Even two months ago, he might have known what to say. He shifted his attention. "John, Nasir?"

Nasir immediately inclined his head to the men he'd bound. Robert looked to John, who hesitated a moment, brow furrowing faintly. Robert cocked his head slightly, and John finally shrugged and turned to see to the men he himself had put rather forcibly to sleep. 

Robert turned and moved in the direction of the man he'd put to the arrow, and the girl he'd saved. Dark eyes followed him, thoughtful and weighty in their regard. Robert didn't acknowledge the gaze and Nasir didn't say anything as he walked the length of the open field. His friend was typically deferential when they were surrounded by enemies. 

The noble was not fully dead by the time Robert reached him, and his body covered the girl. Robert knelt beside them and glanced him over, then pulled him onto his side, freeing the girl. She rolled away quickly, breath coming in fast pants now audible with her face free of de Trimetre's chest. 

"You'll wish...let me...take her..."

Robert let him go, forcing the rest of his dying mutters into the uncaring sod as he looked to the girl. He dark brown hair was tied up, but it had started to escape the bonds in straggling strands that stuck to her skin gone pale and splotchy red in places with exertion and fear. "Can you walk?" 

She stared down at the body, unresponsive. 

Robert sighed and lifted his hand to attract her attention. "My lady, can you walk?" 

She startled, finally looking to Robert. "Oh--oh, yes, I--I think so."

Robert looked her over and decided she didn't seem about to fall over, and nodded. "This way," he murmured, gesturing back to the group. After she started, Robert briefly knelt and cut the strings of the Noble's purse and removed three rings and two necklaces, all heavy with jewels. 

Overall, it had been a good day's work. 

~

"Eneryth is my name," she murmured when she'd calmed down. "I really don't know how to thank you...Robin?"

Robin shared a look with John and then smiled faintly. "Indeed, I am the Hooded Man. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, lady Eneryth."

She flushed, eyes widening and immediately dropping to the forest floor. "I wish only it had been under less trying circumstances," she said quietly, hands twisting in her skirts.

Robert glanced at Tuck who nodded immediately and moved forward. "Oh, my dear child, I can only imagine the fear you must have felt. I'm terribly sorry. Why not come sit and warm yourself by the fire?"

The night passed without incident until Tuck noted her scratching symbols into the ashes of their fire. He separated Robert from the group to tell him briefly, and while it was somewhat out of character for someone who was claiming shock still, they would've dismissed it as fancy if they hadn't had to fight off a local wolf pack immediately.

Robert still had to give her the benefit of the doubt, since wolves were known to attack in winter and even though this one hadn't been particularly harsh, slightly strange behavior from wildlife wasn't something he'd ever condemn someone for outright. Even so, he ensured she was nowhere near their food or water supply while it was prepared, and watched her carefully that afternoon as they made ready to escort her to the other side of the frozen greenwood. 

They couldn't be with her the entire time, unfortunately, not and be able to claim honorable intentions, and that proved to be their downfall. 

She returned from relieving herself with a strange tension in her hands, but did nothing they could see. It was only later, when he began to feel distant and woozy, that he realized she'd made sure to touch them all in the preparations to break camp the next morning.

"What have you done?" he muttered, the words dragging from his tongue oddly. 

She laughed as he stared. "You've a strong constitution," she said mockingly as he looked over his friends. "Or maybe I gave too much to your friends and left too little for you. No matter, it still seems to be working well enough. Go to sleep, Robin i' the Hood. When you wake, the world will be different..."

Blackness took his vision before he could ask more. As he slipped away, he couldn’t help the rueful thought: _of course she turned out to be evil._

 

~

The world was a muffled presence in reality as Robert woke, and for a moment, he couldn't connect his mind to his body.

"So soon? I should've harvested more...but then you would've been more suspicious, I suppose." 

Robert forced his eyes open and realized he was laying on cold snow and looking away from whatever source of heat he could feel faintly on his legs. Half of his face had gone numb with the chill and when he struggled up instinctively, his limbs responded sluggishly. Even so, he was pleased to realize she hadn't even bothered to bind him. The overconfident were usually the easiest to defeat. He turned his head slowly, his jaw beginning to ache as the feeling returned, and blinked, taking in the scene she'd set.

It took a moment to process, and then another as he worked his jaw before he could speak. "What exactly is your purpose here?" 

Eneryth drew her head up. "With the power of Herne--"

Robert sighed and then ducked his head in apology when she scowled at him. "Please continue."

She frowned. "You mock me!" 

"Of course I do," Robert said, and waved a hand in her direction. She was standing beside a small fire and seemed to be wearing a tattered quilt with feathers sewn into the seams. Three headless chickens lay around her and she'd painted herself up in symbols Robert didn't recognize, though the smell of the concoction was...pungent. A circle of similarly coated stones surrounded both her, the bodies of the chickens and the pitiful fire.

"You've covered yourself in feathers and surrounded yourself in a circle of rocks covered in blood and bile."

"The components of my spell are quite powerful. When the spell is complete, that power and Herne's both will be mine!"

Robert snorted. "Oh, I've no doubt on the strength of the ingredients, my lady. The smell will be enough to bring every starving predator for miles." He cocked his head. "You say you've defended against mystical interference. How about mundane?"

She blanched faintly, answering him. Robert sighed, pushing himself to his feet. "I thought as much. You delay my people, and brought me here...why? In hopes of an audience for some grand ascension? This ascension, I must add, which you intend to instigate with Herne's power, yet which to my vision contains no items of _his_ power." 

Eneryth stared at him, eyes wide and looking very young. He shook his head. "Do you think he'll let you tap his power so lightly? Here, in his domain?" Movement caught his eye and he shifted his attention to witness Herne enter the clearing. 

Eneryth slowly turned to see the antlered form of Herne, arms outstretched in a Working. "No!" She screamed. "You can't do this!" 

Robert laughed for the first time in a week. 

Eneryth whirled around and shrieked. "You! _You horrid man!_ " 

She began to speak in a language Robert didn't recognize against his native tongue, the Church's Latin, the language of the Angles or the little Greek he'd picked up. His eyes darted to Herne, who continued his own Working, and he realized his body was so heavy he could barely breathe. He realized that his fate would come down to whichever of the two was faster. 

Thankfully, Herne was a god and he had a good head start. 

Eneryth screamed, interrupting herself and twisting, arms raised as though to shield from branches flung in the wind. The pressure around Robert lightened, and Robert sighed. It was the first time he'd felt this easy in months. Since Marion had left. 

A sound came from behind him, distant as though through water. He turned, feeling queerly as though his body was half a heartbeat behind him. Nasir was moving toward him, uncharacteristically expressive with his dismay. 

Robert said his name, but even distant as he was, and he seemed to be fading faster by the moment, he could tell the syllables struggled into the air, quite unlike the true liquid sound of his friend's name. 

Nasir reached him, but Robert could do nothing to reassure him as the edges of his vision went dark. 

~

When Robert became aware again, the air around him was warm and there was a scent to it that was both strange and familiar, completely unlike the natural bite of Sherwood winter in his nose. He opened his eyes, and found himself in his father's home, in his old room. 

He sat up slowly, and realized uncomfortably that he was in his dressing gown. He hadn't dressed like this since the sheriff had found out he was Robin Hood. The door of the room opened to one of his father's servants. The man paused when he saw Robert awake in the middle of the room, but continued. "My lord, your honorable father wishes to remind you that he is to leave early today to begin his journey to see the king." 

Robert was awash in confusion, but he hadn't spent the last few years keeping his friends safe by showing his secrets on his face like pictures in a well-read book. "Of course," he murmured. "Please tell…my lord father I will be down momentarily."

The man bowed, a look of curiosity briefly crossing over his face as he backed out of the room.

Robin wondered what he'd done wrong, but had no time to think on it. He was more concerned with his friends, where he was and how to return to them. He turned his focus inwards. _What's happened? Herne?_

The normal resonance when he opened the connection to his patron and adoptive father was muddy and faint, and he recoiled automatically. Not even when Herne had been struck by Gulnar's monster had he felt this weak in Robin's brain. 

He slowly forced himself up, part of him wanting nothing more than to tear out of this seeming of Huntingdon Hall and make haste to Sherwood, but he couldn't be sure how any of these people might respond. If this was a trap, he would have to be careful and cautious. 

He wasn't sure what to make of this. Was it another trick of potions and spells and the worship of a foreign devil? Would he find Gulnar, not dead as Herne had said, but again waving some grisly wand and commanding his men to take Robert's life?

He'd go along with the charade for now as though it were real and see if he could find any more information. He'd lived in this Hall ten years before his time in Sherwood and he was confident in his ability to pick out any differences if a false copy had been made. An error might even help him discover the perpetrator. 

He slipped from his dressing gown and laid it at the foot of his bed for the servants to take and clean. His lightly armored padded leather hunting vest hung to the side in the closet, and his hand lingered over it and he hesitated a long moment before setting it aside. 

He was halfway through dressing himself in the plainest clothing he had, solid blue trousers and a simple light linen shirt when he realized he'd spoken to the servant in his natural tongue. He'd become so accustomed to speaking the native language among his friends that he hadn't thought anything of it. 

Robert tried not to think on it too hard, but after dressing and going down to breakfast, he was beginning to wonder if he wasn't caught in a trap after all. The trip of his father's, it was as distantly familiar as everything else. 

Robert recalled last time while at breakfast, he'd been distracted and bothered by dreams and his father had become cross with him and left in a huff. The rest of the day he'd been restless, and Herne, he knew now, had called him repeatedly until he finally answered the next day. He'd spent hours fighting himself before finally giving in and finishing the last leg of the journey entranced, following Herne without thought until he'd been brought to the man, or god. 

**I am Herne the Hunter, and you are a leaf on the wind.**

_But how is this possible?_ He wondered, attending breakfast with his father. He moved in a distracted haze, and the morning went quite similarly to what he remembered. 

**And you also must have purpose, and prove yourself.**

As he watched his father leave, he frowned faintly. There was something about this...something. _It's a trick_ , he told himself silently. _It has to be._

And yet there was still that small amount of doubt. And the uncertain nature of his connection to Herne. It had never felt like this before. Could he take that chance? He recalled the look of his friends, the first time he'd presented himself truly. 

Tuck, John, Much, Will...Marion. Even Nasir, as taciturn as he usually was, as strong as his faith, had been in mourning. 

If there was even a chance...no, he had to try. Even if it was a trap. 

**You are their hope...Robin i' the hood.**

He had been half-living in a dead man's skin, and paying for the pains he had wrought in Herne's name for the better part of the last eight years, trying to pick up the pieces. Perhaps he could finally do something of his own for his friends. 

_No...it wasn't you I heard._

An unfamiliar presence intruded and Robert angled his head, body alert to pull his sword as needed. 

A servant. _Of course,_ Robert thought. _And now I've been standing here like a half-wit._ "Yes?"

"Do you need anything, my lord?"

Robert looked around the dining hall slowly and saw the attending servants, well dressed and clearly cared for, and knew his course was set. "Yes, but nothing to cause you further delay in your schedule," he said, striding to the side door which would take him closest to his wing rooms. "If you could prepare a large basket of food? I believe I shall hunt today."

The servant bowed with a faint frown, confused by the strange behavior of his youngest master, no doubt. "Of course my lord."

"Where will you be--"

Robert continued walking forward through the door, without answering. There was no answer he was willing to give. Ignorance would better serve them, in this case. He returned to his room, considering the economy of his saddle and what he could reasonably carry with him. 

When he rode out less than an hour later, he was carrying what money he had saved himself from his recent quarterly allowance. He'd spent it on a horse he hadn't needed last time, as he recalled. It could feed the people of Wickham for three months, if well managed. 

He also had his food, and some of the lesser rings and chains his father had given him over the years. All of the heirlooms were left. The ring his father had given him the night he confirmed Robert's status as heir was left beneath his pillow, pressed into place with wax to ensure both the letter and the ring remained whole until his father's return. 

He wore his dullest riding clothes under his padded vest and carried both summer and winter shirts in his bags, recalling the coldness of a winter in the woods. 

With the food, it might be enough. Herne willing. 

~ 

Their signs of passing were easy to discern for Robert, who'd lived among them so long. He moved through the forest slowly. In his clothing, he was unlikely to be taken for a soldier, but he was unwilling to risk startling any of his unknowing friends into shooting him. He carried his sword at his belt with his quiver and his longbow over one shoulder. 

He found the camp empty, but clearly settled. They were out robbing some other noble's son, perhaps. He unburdened his horse of both bags, saddle and bit, and gave it a long lead to reach several near tufts of grass. 

Then he stood quietly for a long moment and opened himself to the forest. In a half trance, following wisps of a trail, he moved deeper into Sherwood. 

**The Hooded Man will come to Sherwood: there to meet with Herne the Hunter, to be his son and do his bidding.**

The connection to Herne was stronger in the forest, his domain, and Robert followed it inexorably to the figure shrouded in an uncanny mist, buried in the foliage. Laying physical eyes on his adopted father was strange, somehow new and yet so familiar. Robert found himself smiling, feeling strangely light wearing his own name. _Herne._

A surprised pulse of recognition, wary and then welcoming. Herne retreated into the forest and Robert followed the pull in response.

He met Herne in full regalia at the mouth of the trail which approached the lake cavern. 

"Who is this, that is become my son? I have a son, yet."

Robert knelt. "Robert of Huntingdon," he said slowly. "You called me."

Herne said nothing a moment, and then shook his head. "So you are, and so I did, and yet...Robert of Huntingdon could not have found this place so quickly. Nor was he my son when the sun rose."

Robert smiled up at the man he had come to revere as much as he'd ever done his blood father. "Perhaps I'm Robert of Sherwood, then."

Herne nodded slowly, looking at the lake but seeing beyond it. "I see in you a great struggle. A burden and a blessing." He refocused sharply on Robert, gaze heavy and as capable of piercing one to the bone as the antlers he bore. "What has happened?"

Robert looked down silently for a moment; let his eyes rest on the ripples as the water lapped at the lake's edge as he collected his thoughts. Finally, he looked up. "One morning, I heard a voice."

~

"There are many strange magics in the world," Herne said when Robert finally finished, thankfully for his hoarse voice. "Perhaps her intent to use my power allowed some of it to influence and warp her attack on your mind."

Robert watched him steadily, carefully open to shifts in the connection that was now imperturbable in his mind. "I would warn them," he said quietly. 

"Think you that this is wisdom?" Herne asked gently.

Robert slowly shook his head. "I don't know what it is," he said honestly. "I only know that I have fought injustice and needless pain and suffering for all my recent years, and I have been weighted down by the pain of my friends, which I could not stop. I can't just stand by and do nothing."

Herne nodded slowly and set a hand on Robert's shoulder. "Some things cannot be changed," he warned. 

Robert ducked his head in acknowledgment. "I must try where I can." 

"I expect nothing less from my second son," Herne murmured. His grip tightened briefly, then he used it to pull Robert to his feet. "We will go to your brother, then. Together."

Robert's shoulders slumped in relief. "I was afraid you might send me there alone," he confessed.

Herne continued in an even stride, face mild. "I fear if I did that, I may have need to call a third son ere the night were through."

Robert hesitated briefly, but had no other choice now. He was committed.

**I am Herne the Hunter, and you are a leaf in the wind.**

At least he wore his own mantle once more, and none of the dead's. He followed beside Herne quietly. He found he was both expectant and nervous. Part of him expected this to be a dream, and for his friends to greet him as they had. For Marion to be in Halstead. For Robin of Loxley, who had been gone the better part of a decade and yet still managed to help Robert do what neither foe nor erst-while ally had ever managed: in his death and with Robert's own unintended cooperation by means of the life they had both chosen, break Marion's spirit. 

But no. None of that would be, if Robert had his will. As they walked, he took the time to actually think about what he'd done. His actions since waking this morning had been entirely impulsive, uncharacteristically so, almost. 

His father always had said he was headstrong...not until he had trusted companions to tell him he was being foolish had he ever learned to stop and consider. 

So he considered, on the slow almost-march to the camp of Robin Hood and his band of men. And the happily married Marion. He thought seeing the look on her face, loving and accepting, directed at someone else. It pained him, but more, he thought he would be glad. Her happiness had ever been his wish. 

He thought about blank looks on the faces of his friends, and tried not to flinch. He wouldn't have a way to reforge their bonds, and there was little to force them to look passed his lineage without great danger forcing their hand. 

But he wasn't being fair to them. It may not be as...easy, though he hesitated with such a term to refer to an attack on Castle Clun, but he was still determined to fight the tirany of the Norman reign in Nottingham. He was still going to ask to join...and Herne could speak for his sincerity, if nothing else. 

Perhaps it would be enough. He could only try and try again if he failed. He couldn't go back to what he'd been before Herne called him. He may not be the Hooded Man here, but he had strung his bow, and let fly the arrow. His bolt would go true along this path, as he was Herne's second son.

~

Much's voice was just barely audible as they neared the location of the camp. He couldn't make out the words directly, but he imagined he and Herne had been spotted and the band was preparing to receive them. 

He found the closer they got the more his stomach roiled with nerves he usually only felt when his friends were caught in one of the sheriff's plots. 

Herne held a hand and Robert stopped, nodding. He wanted, badly, to see his friends but he understood Herne's caution. He felt a gentle reverberation in him, almost as when Herne summoned him, and realized he must be speaking to Robin.

He knew he was right when a dark haired man appeared a moment later, from around the bend. 

Robin of Sherwood paused when he saw Robert, but Herne smiled slightly, and he continued forward. "Herne?" he asked abruptly. He looked back to Robert again, and Robert nodded in response. Robin paused, a curious look on his face, before he inclined his head and looked back to Herne. "What's going on?"

Herne held up a hand, and Robin subsided, mouth thinning briefly before he sighed and cocked his head. 

Robert smiled gently, recalling his own attempts at forcing Herne to answer any of his questions in a straight forward manner. He was well acquainted with that particular feeling of frustration. 

"You remember my words from before," Herne said.

Robin frowned faintly, but nodded. "If...a man has the courage, he will meet himself at the end of his path, and know his power."

Herne nodded slowly, then turned to Robert. "I forsaw a battle which would test the fortitude of the Hooded Man...that would call to question your strongest bonds, and possibly break your courage."

Robin nodded. "I thought as much," he admitted softly. 

Herne set a hand to his shoulder. "There has been a change. A stone has been dropped into a pond, and what was to be will never be again. The world changes with every leaf that falls from a tree. Do you understand?"

Robin looked to Robert, taking in his clothes of quality, perhaps recalling the fine horse and supplies which they'd found when they returned to the camp. "Who is this leaf, then? This stone which has diverted our path?"

Herne was silent. Robert stepped forward and looked his predecessor in the eye. "I am Robert of Huntingdon, oldest son of the earl of Huntingdon," he said baldly, in the language he'd been more familiar with than that of his birth in the last few years.

Robin's eyes widened. 

"I am Herne's second son," Robert added. 

Robin's stare whirled to Herne. "What...what does this mean?"

Herne remained silent. Robert closed the distance between himself and Robin, but didn't touch his shoulder as he would have his friends. "It means...you've another sword and bow to call on, if you'll have me."

Robin's brow furrowed. "An earl's son?"

Robert cocked his head. "Herne's son."

Robin looked at him deeply, and as he did, Robert felt a pressure as he'd only felt when Herne tried to speak to him. He met it, and then released his own defense, letting Herne's first son find what he could on the edges of Robert's mind. 

It was only fair, as often as Robert had been given visions of this man's life in dream, as often as his words rallied their friends through Robert's mouth. 

"A sword and a bow, then," Robin finally said. "And also," he glanced back to where Herne had stood. Robert wasn't shocked to find him gone, and neither did Robin look particularly surprised. "And also," Robin repeated, "a clearer explanation?"

Robert shook his head, laughing softly. "Well, it would have to be," he replied.

Perhaps recognizing in the bemused words a soul who had also had to parse riddles from Herne's mouth, Robin smiled slowly. "Indeed." He looked back to the camp. "And would I be right in assuming the horse and supplies are yours, then?"

Robert nodded, smiling. "Have you checked the saddle bags?"

Robin shook his head, and gestured Robert to precede him back to the camp. Understanding the instinctive discomfort with allowing what had to seem like a natural enemy at his back, Robert allowed it. 

"We weren't sure what to make of it all, to be honest," Robin was saying. "The boys were deciding whether or not the food was poisoned when Herne called me."

Robert laughed softly, glancing back with a small grin. "Well, that may have saved us some, then."

Robin nodded, smiling himself in response. Then he glanced ahead, and touched Robert's arm.

Robert paused. 

Robin looked him over again. "The way you speak...the things you say, what Herne said..." His mouth twisted as he searched for words. "You were..."

"A successor," Robert said after a moment of silence. 

Robin nodded thoughtfully. "How long?"

Robert thought over the years himself, and smiled. "About eight years. Almost nine." 

A sigh eased from Robin, eyes widening briefly. "Well." They stood in silence for a moment, and then Robin's eyes flicked to the camp. His tone was gentle when he spoke. "It won't be easy."

Robert had been wondering about his friends, and how he'd react if -- when they didn't know him, and stared. Robin, it appeared, was perceptive as well as cunning. "I know," he admitted, bowing his head. "I believe...well. It wasn't easy the first time, either, to be truthful. An earl's son leading treasonous peasants against the lawful, governing king?" 

He laughed, remembering his clumsy missteps in learning how to talk to the others. How to talk to anyone, really, after turning his back on the earldom. "I can only try, as I did then, and hope it is enough."

Robin set a hand to Robert's shoulder almost bracingly. "There's a good start, then," he said with a small smile.

Robert nodded and resumed the trek back to the camp. Every step brought him closer to a new future. 

~

When he and Robin entered the camp, the low level of speech halted. Robert glanced around, taking them in. _They're so **young**_ , he thought. 

Marion and Tuck stood by the fire. Beside them was the parcel of food Robert had brought. He smiled, cocking his head at them, and Marion flushed faintly. 

Much, on the other side of the fire, watched him uncertainly, eyes darting between Robert and Robin. John watched him blankly, waiting for Robin to say something. Robert glanced back to the silent Robin, and bowed his head briefly and moved to his horse. 

Nothing was said as he grabbed a handful of grass and began rubbing down his fine gray. The horse nickered, sensing its master, and a small knot of tension eased. _Someone's pleased to see me, at least._

Behind him, low conversation picked up. He only caught one in four words, but it was all questions about him and Herne, predictably. Robin's voice flowed soothingly, calming their fears without condescending. He could tell when Robin spoke to Marion directly, as the tone warmed a shade.

Part of him sighed, but more he realized how relieved he was to see her, even wary, without the lines sorrow had etched on her face. 

"Will, Nasir," Robin called loudly, almost startling Robert. He set a hand on Gweneth's foreleg soothingly and glanced up. He assumed they were in the high tree on the north side of the camp. That would give them a solid view of the camp and decent cover from the lower tree branches. 

They began sliding down from the same tree, and he smiled slightly and returned his eyes briefly to his horse. _Now comes the hard part,_ he predicted. 

"Who's the rich bastard?" Will asked when he was setting feet on the ground. 

Considering his father's proclivities, it wasn't an unfair accusation, whether Scarlet knew it or not. Robert turned his back to Gweneth and met Will's eyes briefly before nodding. He couldn't held a small trill of amusement at the belligerent look as Will turned it immediately to Robin and began berating him for leading Robert back to the camp.

While Robin dealt with Scarlet, Robert found his attention taken by Nasir, who was slowly approaching him with furrowed brows. Frowning faintly, he paused just out of arm's reach, which meant of course that Robert was well within reach of his deadly swords should Nasir chose to draw them. Robert shifted, having never received such a look from Nasir before. It was confused and somehow both welcoming and foreboding. Perhaps it was the anger he could detect. Nasir didn't like being confused. 

He held Nasir's eyes for a moment before slowly bowing. "Robert of Huntingdon," he offered when he raised his head again. 

Nasir slowly returned the bow with a stately incline of his head. "Nasir Malik Kamal Inal Ibrahin Shams ad Duala Watthab ibn Mahmud. I know you."

Robert blinked. "You do?"

Nasir nodded slowly. Robert didn't know what to say. He'd never met Nasir before coming to Sherwood the first time that he recalled. How could he have missed the man, after all?

He held his hands out apologetically. "I'm afraid I don't..." 

Nasir shook his head. "Here," he said. He gestured to the trees with one hand and then gripped Robert's shoulder with it. "I know you."

Robert found himself fighting a wave of emotion and briefly closed his eyes. It may not have been possible, but he communed with the pagan god of Sherwood forest on a regular basis, and appeared to be years behind himself in his own life, so perhaps he should count nothing impossible. Nasir had been close to him when he'd collapsed under the workings of both Herne and the witch...perhaps that explained it?

Nasir didn't seem to have any recollection of the times themselves, but even this acknowledgment was more than Robert had hoped for. "Yes," he admitted softly, looking back up. "We do know each other."

"I think...well." Nasir nodded after a moment. 

Robert couldn't say anything to that, his throat tight, and only nodded again as Nasir continued a close examination of him -- with attention to his weapons. His friends would think him simple at this rate, but it would be better than to speak and shame himself with tears. Nasir's eyes returned to Robert's face and understanding lit those dark eyes. He squeezed Robert's shoulder once, and then removed his hand and gestured at the unopened bags Robert had brought. 

Recognizing mercy when shown, Robert gracefully accepted and moved between Nasir and Gweneth to the things he'd brought. He knelt and opened the nearest, using the ties as an excuse to draw together his straggling self-control. After a moment, he stood and took the opened satchels to the middle of the camp. "As the earl's heir, I've been given tokens over the years," he said finally. "As I am no longer the earl's heir -- and shortly, likely not his son -- I have no need of them."

Robin held a hand up when Scarlet opened his mouth, likely to denigrate Robert's heritage as he still did several years in the future. His eyes moved from Robert to the bags. "Will any of it be missed?"

Robert shook his head. "I left a letter and only took what had been given to me directly," he explained, withdrawing the simple chains and handful of jeweled rings to the top of the bag. When he knew Robin -- and the rest -- had seen them, he dropped them back into the bag and tossed it to Robin. "There are 120 marks in there, as well."

Robin stared. 

Scarlet himself was rather surprised, Robert could see, but his reaction was entirely characteristic. "What's the game, then? We try to melt it down or sell it and the sheriff takes us?"

Robert shook his head, looking to Robin. "I think I should probably give you -- all of you -- that detailed explanation now." 

Robin nodded silently, dark eyes moving from the bag back to Robert. 

"I told you I was the Earl of Huntingdon’s heir," Robert said after thinking a moment. "What I didn't say, though Herne told Robin, is that I'm also Herne's son."

There was a pause as the news settled and the merries looked to Robin for confirmation. Will responded first, and perhaps in the only way he could have. "What, Herne got a little wild a few decades ago? How many of you bastards're running around, then?"

Robert laughed softly and Robin, who'd looked torn between amusement and chastisement, subsided. Robert shook his head. "I was called...originally, I guess, because Herne needed me." He looked to Robin, standing hand entwined with Marion, and let himself enjoy their happiness. "Robin was to die, to save your lives. Herne saw it, but couldn't see a way around it."

"What?" John said leaning forward. "Robin die? But how?"

Robert's mouth thinned faintly. "The sheriff took...or will take, I suppose, the town of Wickham hostage and force them to act normally until the band appeared, and after he chased Robin and the few others who escaped to open ground."

There was an uneasy silence as the group processed how vulnerable they were, under the right circumstances. 

Will laughed, but it was uncomfortable. Awkward. "Originally, will take...what are you on about?"

Robert looked at him directly. He knew Will Scarlet, trusted the man--but God's teeth, his stubbornness could make a saint weep. This wouldn't be pleasant. "I lived through these things already," he said baldly. He looked the camp over again, and then back to Robin and Marion. Marion was now watching him fiercely, fingers laced tightly with Robin's. "I've lived this and some years forward."

~

He was right. It was entirely unpleasant. He'd struggled through a short recounting of his life, and when he was finally quiet, Will called him a liar. 

"And if I can prove it to you?" Robert asked. He had an idea of what it might take, but thought this particular medicine might be worse than the affliction it could cure. 

"Good luck, that," Will snorted rudely. "You prove that piss-swilling nonsense to me, I'll kiss your fancy mud-covered boots." He shook his head and looked at Robin, then the others. "Why are we even listening to this shit?"

In the background, Nasir shook his head at Will's words, dark eyes considering Robert thoroughly. He said nothing, and perhaps none of the others even noticed his quiet rebuff, but Robert felt a little relief from his own tension. He wondered what he saw. How must he feel, observing a blond, Norman noble who came spouting madness and asked trust in fighting their greatest foe? 

He could only meet his eyes as he was silently bidden to, and present himself as he was. Finally, those dark eyes moved to Will once more, and he stepped forward, drawing the group's attention. 

Nasir spoke, and as taciturn as he normally was, his voice silence the rest of the outlaws. "I do not know of the years passing," he said, inclining his head in Robert's direction. "I know _him_ , though."

Will snorted. "So what, you met him at some fancy party while you were with Belleme? Doesn't exactly endear him to me, to be honest."

Nasir shook his head sharply. "Not from that devil's song. From Sherwood." He looked to Robert again. He didn't say anything else, eyes flicking between Robert and robin. "I know him..." He set his fist over his heart and nodded to Robert. "Here. I know him."

Robert swallowed his thankful heart and ducked his head slightly in response. It was a loyalty and a faith he hadn't looked for in this madness since waking so far in his own past. 

Will laughed faintly. "So. You expect us to believe you then? Just like that?"

Robert shook his head. "I'm not stupid, and I know you aren't either. I expect you to use what information I can provide and test it. Hopefully avoid the traps being set." He looked back to Robin, who'd remained silent this whole time, curse him. 

Robin acknowledged the faint accusation, and held up a hand. "Enough." The rest of the band focused on him. "Herne has spoken, and I can also vouch for Robert's sincerity." He shook his head at will. "I won't ask you to just trust him, Will," he said patiently. "But I will ask you to give him a chance. And to help me test his information." He glanced to Robert and then back to Will. "You must admit, the sheriff's due to try again."

Will's mouth twisted. "All the more reason not to let a possible traitor--"

"I said I can vouch for his sincerity," Robin said again, voice sharper now. He took a step forward and stared the other man down intensely. 

Will finally relented. "Well. I just don't want us to lose our heads, is all," he muttered, looking away. 

Robert was impressed. He'd never been able to force Will to back down that easily. Or perhaps, he'd never felt like he had the right to use that kind of intimidation on him. It would have been too much like a lord using his position over his people. 

Robin's face softened. "I know, Will," he said softly. He looked back to Robert. "Neither do I, when it comes to that, you know."

Will nodded. "I know, Robin." He looked back at Robert and visibly swallowed his anger. "Well, then. What's this plot of the sheriff's, then?"

Robert's shoulders sagged slightly with relief. He bowed his head faintly in acknowledgment of the risk they were taking with him, then composed himself. "As I said, the sheriff will take Wickham and hide soldiers in the village, either tonight or tomorrow morning." He thought about John's emotional retelling of the events which had led to Robin's death, and sighed. "From what I understand, Nasir was...dealing...with some of his former companions."

All eyes turned to Nasir, who raised his eyebrows briefly at them and turned his look to Robert. When John had first related events to him, he'd briefly explained Nasir's former position. Robert approached Nasir, understanding that a man's past didn't dictate his future, and confessed how he'd come to have any information about the man's past. Then he'd asked him if he was sure his former master would send no further men. Nasir had said God's will could move mountains. Robert took that to mean his friend was as sure as he could be. They'd spoken about Nasir's past, as much as Nasir was willing to reveal. 

Now, understanding his friend hadn't yet confessed his history to their friends, Robert hesitated to speak. Nasir cocked his head, meeting Robert's eyes for a long moment. He inclined his head very slightly. Robert's shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded in return. "Former companions, from before he was brought to this land. Hashishiyun."

"What's that, then?" Will asked, gaze moving from Robin to Nasir curiously. 

Tuck was looking as well. "Friends, Nasir?"

Those dark eyes met Robert's briefly, just as he was about to apologize. They crinkled slightly in a small smile, and Robert let the tension drain away happily. Nasir turned to the others. "Hashishiyun," he said slowly, weighing his words. "They are...killers, by your tongue."

John frowned. "Sorry?"

Will glanced over. "They're kil--"

"Soldiers of faith," Robert interrupted. Will glared but Robert held his eyes firmly. "They kill for their beliefs. Like--" _us,_ he finished silently, mouth hesitating to shape the words. But a person should begin as they meant to continue. Robert had once lost sight of that, and suffered a year and several thrashings in regaining his place. "Like we do."

He finally looked back to Nasir, who was watching him without an easily identified expression which slowly warmed into clear approval. He looked back to Will, then around the camp. "It is as he says." He turned back to Robert. "They come?"

"This afternoon or tomorrow morning, I imagine," Robert murmured. "If I make my guess right." 

Nasir frowned faintly, perhaps considering the ways such a meeting could end. 

Recognizing his friend's need for quiet thinking, Robert resumed his thread. "Matthew was sent to call the group by threat to his father. The sheriff and his men were waiting. John and Will were caught in the initial ambush. Nasir and Tuck joined them later." 

The rest of the story, until his own part in it, was largely speculation and what John would relate from Marion's grief-stricken explanation. "The hounds chased you," he said to Robin and Marion. "You were forced from Sherwood to the open knoll along the southwest tract." 

"The sheriff had you well trapped. You sent Marion and Much off and held the soldiers' attention long enough to allow them to escape." He looked away from Marion's tight face, and Robin's eyes caught him. Now he spoke directly to Robin. "I...heard a voice. Herne had been giving me images I couldn't understand for weeks, sent dreams I didn't know were...yours. On today, originally, he began calling me even while awake."

"After you died, the things I'd been shown came together. You told me 'nothing is forgotten.'" He paused a moment, considering the rest of Herne's reaction to the news that Robin was dead, but couldn't bring himself to describe that meeting in further detail.

**So he is free.**

_Nobody's free._

Robert looked around the clearing, and found himself the focus of several highly considering looks. Nasir and Tuck, oddly enough, were the only ones with a masked expression. Nasir's face was habitually still and without judgment, but seeing a blank look on Tuck's face was...unsettling. 

He sighed and continued. "You were moved to a building on the edge of the village. We snuck out the back after I unbound you." Which, really, was an easier retelling than recounting that heart-pounding moment of time, as he tried desperately to keep his hood far enough down his face to keep them quiet, and then stood before the hut before the men who'd just killed Robin, all bearing crossbows pointed directly at him. 

It was truly a wonder of Herne’s magic that he'd walked away with his life. 

"There was quite a bit in the years between then and the last thing I remember before waking this morning," Robert said before anyone could prompt him. "The last I recall is being caught between a sorceress and Herne at the standing stones. She was trying to use Herne's power at a place of strength and weakness, but I'm not sure exactly what she intended. I interrupted her spellworking and Herne engaged her when she tried to strike me down." 

He sighed, thinking back over the last ten years. Such a large amount of history to lose. "For now, I guess that's what matters," he said. The air of distrust had muted while he spoke, but when he glanced around it was clear the gang was withholding judgment while they considered. Much was probably the only one who seemed like he might believe Robert.

Well, Nasir might believe him, too, he realized, observing the Saracen from the corner of his eye. Robert had seen him looking both more blank and somehow more imposing than he was currently. His friend seemed more thoughtful than anything. 

"What, that's...that's it, then?" Will said.

Robert blinked, and refocused on Will. The former soldier was looking at Robin now, belligerent as he ever was when he didn't understand why they weren't killing Gisbourne again. 

"We're just supposed to believe that shite?" Will asked, glaring briefly back at Robert. 

"He came with Herne," Robin pointed out, still holding onto his patience but with that edge returning to his voice.

Will snorted. Robert shrugged when Robin glanced at him for help. "I could prove it," he repeated his claim from the beginning of his speech. He shifted to a slightly more defensible posture, because there were only a few things he could really say that might convince Scarlet. He'd try the one slightly less likely to drive Will into a rage, but one could rarely tell when the man would take offense even if you were his friend. "When you were fighting in France, you were in the same unit as a man called Moth." 

Will stiffened slightly. "What of it?" he asked. "Anyone could've told you that, what fought with me."

Robert nodded slowly. "That's true enough. Well, then: the last time you saw him, he'd trapped himself and was nearly killed by a group of enemy soldiers in a burning building. You rescued him, but he left you to die and deserted the company. You've not seen him since."

The laughter was draining away from Will's face as Will confronted a world he couldn't understand, one where he wasn't a threat, leaving behind a briefly visible vulnerability which was shortly covered by a different anger than before. 

Robert understood that, having felt a similar wrath for Herne and sometimes Tuck, who occasionally saw far more than Robert ever intended to show them. "He's still alive," he continued softly, finishing this piece of the puzzle. It might be enough for today, but if he looked forward, then...

Will finally looked away, too disturbed by so much magic in his life, and gave Robert a momentary respite. Elayna. He'd eventually have to talk about her. Will would give him no choice, ever looking for a way to hurt himself with his perceived failures. 

_That should be...interesting,_ he thought, having a premonition of Will, enraged, and a shocked group of outlaws unable to respond immediately when he tried to kill Robert. 

"Right, then," Robin said, stepping forward. Marion frowned faintly and he looked back at her until her face relaxed slightly. 

Robert did his best to ignore his reaction, uncertain if he was more jealous of Robin or happy for his friends and unable to deal with the intricacies of loving another man's wife right now. 

"We certainly appreciate the donations," Robin said, to Robert and the group it seemed. "If you don't mind, we need a moment to discuss our options."

"Of course," Robert nodded. He glanced up at the position of the sun thoughtfully. "I might take a walk then," he said. "I could check the traps?"

Will snorted. "You don't even know where they are.”

Robert smiled faintly, already moving to the far side of the clearing. "I'll wager there's one at the ford where the tree resembles an old man, and at the patch of wild flowers near the deer path that runs along the road to Lincoln."

Will was getting better at hiding his reaction to Robert knowing things he shouldn't, but he couldn't flly suppress the color rising along the back of his neck. Robert didn't say anything for the peace between them and turned back to Robin. "While I'm giving you privacy...?" he offered in a vague question. He could check the traps as easily as not, and it would give them a rough idea of how long he'd be gone. 

Robin nodded, his own expression not familiar to Robert, nor obvious in its intent. "I'd appreciate it," he said. "I'd like it if you take one of us with you to watch your back, though."

Robert nodded. "Of course."

Robin glanced over the group and Robert did the same. John looked confused, and a little angry. Will looked like he'd rather run Robert through and be done with it. Tuck was thoughtful, Marion and Much both had eyes on Robin. 

"I will go," Nasir said, interrupting Robert's silent evaluation. Robert felt his shoulders ease faintly and smiled slightly in thanks. 

~

It was interesting to walk through the forest with his connection to Herne muted. The trees, the light...it all seemed lighter somehow, a little flat but more airy. There seemed to be less depth. 

It was still beautiful, of course, as Sherwood always was in summer and autumn. Robert paused when they came to the stream and looked over his shoulder at Nasir. "You checked the traps this morning, didn't you?"

"After the others ate." Nasir ducked his head, eyes crinkling faintly. 

Robert laughed softly. "Of course. Perhaps a walk to the creek, then?" The closest one had the best patch of ground to rest on when the weather permitted it. Nasir dipped his head again, a shallow nod, and they made the walk in silence.

The slender branches on the smaller trees necessitated a flexible gait to hold them back or duck under them, and Robert occasionally caught Nasir's eyes on him as they negotiated the woods. He found that he wasn't bothered: the silence between them was customary -- or perhaps it was more appropriate to say that it would be, if Robert was accepted into the group. 

Robert heard the stream sooner than he expected, frowning faintly as he thought back and confirmed that he shouldn't be able to hear the water this clearly so close. They closed the last distance with Robert thus distracted, and his attention only refocused when he noticed how strong the water was flowing and realized the air was unseasonably warm and wet. Rains and runoff probably accounted for the extra.

Nasir kneeled near the bank and pulled one of his blades and a dry cloth. "You know the woods well," he murmured, eyes following his hand as he swept the cloth over his blade. 

Robert dropped beside him at a bit over arms reach and watched the river. "I've lived here for almost ten years," he muttered. "About that, at any rate, I'm acquainted with the ways of Sherwood."

"Everything changes," Nasir murmured, voice dipping as the swipe of his hand paused briefly on his blade. When Robert looked to him, he was gazing at the stream in front of them. "Rivers branch in strange ways."

Robert bit down his automatic confusion and thought through Nasir's words. "Do you mean that I shouldn't base my actions entirely on what I recall?" he asked after a moment. Nasir had returned to attending his blades and only shrugged. "I have to act on what I know, though. I can't allow that kind of tragedy to occur if I can prevent it."

Even if that meant Marion would never look on him with the fondness he'd hoped for not even two months past. She was so young here, he recalled with a pang of something he didn't quite recognize in himself. She was beautiful, certainly: as beautiful as anyone could claim some fairy queen to be, but...there was something different. 

Then the thought rose unbidden, but with the strength of epiphany: _She's not my Marion._ The edges of her optimism had not been blunted by loss. She hadn't lived the last eight years with him, working and starving and outwitting the nobles. Grief struck him as the realization transferred. All of his friends...well, they weren't quite dead, but they weren't here. Thanks to the witch and Herne, Robert had lost all of his friends in the single twang of an arrow released.

 _Not lost,_ he thought, _not lost._ But the chill in his heart had faded and now he was open to the deep pain of loss twice over. 

"No flower blooms twice, but they may still bloom in the same place." 

Robert turned blindly to Nasir, surprised to find his vision blurred. "I'm sorry?" he started, and stopped at the thickness of his own voice. Anger and shame both crested and his jaw went tight as the frustration of having no target battered at his self-control and Robert flinched faintly at the force of his feelings. 

He dropped his eyes and drew steady breaths as the anger slowly abated. Rage like that was rare to him, especially recently. Shame kept him from meeting Nasir's eyes when he turned to him; rather, he focused on his friend's nose and the green he could see past the dark line of his bearded jaw. "I'm sorry. I lost control for a moment. What were you saying?"

Nasir's hands stilled briefly over his blade, and then he flicked the cloth out beside his thigh and lay his sword on top of it. Robert blinked, brow furrowing as his friend shifted. He watched him shift his weight, drawing one of his legs beneath him and leaned back to give him room as he knelt up. He wanted to ask what he was doing but before his jaw could do more than relax, Nasir grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, grip passing the point of pain. "The world is a wondrous place, and here especially, much that seems certain changes. But there is still Sherwood." 

Nasir's voice was low and gentle, a counterpoint to the strength of his fingers on Robert's shoulder. He held Robert's eyes without a show of discomfort at the intimacy of prolonged eye-contact. Tension coiled in Robert's gut, unease and the whispers of that anger biting angry steps up his spine, but Nasir was unmoved.

"The river is never the same, but it is still the river. Yes?"

Robert's head was heavy as he turned slowly to look at the stream in front of them, watching the swift rush of the small waterway. "Nasir--"

Nasir shook him by his shoulder. "You think too much. Do not focus on a single dune and ignore the desert."

Robert closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself of the many times past where Nasir's advice had proved beyond worth. Then he let the air out slowly and considered the stream once more. The water still rushed, occasionally flashing with the glint of light off the scales a darting fish. Leaves and small sticks rushed along the surface now and then. 

The anger passed. Robert thought. His shoulder relaxed slowly beneath Nasir's hand. "It's still Sherwood," he murmured, mind resting on the small crest of water over the jut of a stone. Nasir patted his shoulder, and withdrew his hand. From the corner of his eyes, Robert could see the regular rhythm of cloth over metal resume. 

They say quietly for another few minutes before Robert leaned forward and pressed his hands to his knees, forcing himself up and then to his feet. "We should be making our way back, I think."

Nasir rose smoothly, sheathing his blade. Robert touched his arm when he turned to take point in the forest. "Thank you."

Nasir smiled, a gentle curve and flash of white before he ducked from Robert's hand and moved into the deepening shadows of Sherwood. 

~

Robin's apologetic look tightened when Will sneered, but Robert shrugged it off with the ease of long habit. "Our best options by my reckoning are to either catch them on their way to Wickham, or, if we believe that the Sheriff will be lenient if we do not follow his plan, not go to the village at all." He glanced around and the circle thoughtfully, and then shrugged. "I believe it would be best to intercept them on their way."

Tuck nodded once, folding his hands in his sleeves as he considered the plan. "There's the added bonus of making them suspect a traitor."

Robert nodded. "Exactly."

There was an awkward moment, then, where Will leaned in with a thick frown and Robin had had enough and cuffed his shoulder. Much bit his lip, and really, the years that had been lifted from them showed as strongly on Much as they did on Marion. Perhaps more, if Robert were honest. 

Much looked every day of his youth then, eyes moving from Robert to Much and then to Robin and back to Will. "He's right, isn't he, Will? I mean. He's not wrong. Is he?"

Will's retaliatory scowl cracked then and he looked down. "He's not wrong," he muttered resentfully, shoulders slumping as he reluctantly nods assent to Robert's plan.

The dapple of light through the greenwood in summer was a thing of green and gold that lived with the sway of branches in the wind. It loaned masks to Robert's friends and reminded him of the eddy of water over rock. Nasir stood to the edge of the group, eyes on them and ears on the forest. 

Robert turned his eyes to his predecessor, passing over Marion on the way. She smiled faintly at him in a moment where the fall of light haloed her hair, giving the impression of fire. Her hand was laced through Robin's and he followed Robin's arm up from their hands, lingering on the raw wood of the bow loosely strung and canted over one shoulder in preparation for the run to Wickham. 

It was strange how making contact with someone entirely new could reassure Robert as Robin's presence did, until he remembered his earlier grief. His friends might still be the same people at their heart, but he would still miss the shared experiences between them. What he had -- or perhaps, the brotherhood he _could_ have -- with Robin, had no loss attached to it.

And of course there was Nasir, who seemed to remember him on some level. There were questions to answer later, Robert knew. John's curiosity, Will's resentment and Much's open nature wouldn't leave him with even unthinking secrets for very long. And he had questions for Herne, himself, for which he feared he would have to fight to have answered. 

But for now, there was this target in front of him, of them, and they had a plan. The wood of his bow was smooth beneath his fingers and his quiver was full. Sherwood lived around him, and his soul seemed to have been revived with it, in pain and love. He would reclaim his friends. He just had to keep them alive to do it. 

[](http://s591.photobucket.com/albums/ss355/Caitriona3/Big%20Bang%20Art/Robin%20of%20Sherwood/?action=view&current=Closingbanner.jpg)

**Author's Note:**

> See [this chronology](http://community.livejournal.com/wolfshead/111798.html) for a rough look at what I'm working with. With the historical dates in mind, Robin of Loxley was the Hooded Man for about seven years, and by the end of the series, Robert had been the Hooded Man for about eight years. I mean, possibly this is just fans imposing too much logic on the show, and the Loxley era was set to cover two years and the Huntingdon era the same, but I prefer to make use of this lady's fine work.


End file.
